


Leave Him Bleeding

by faultyfriendofyours



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, paul goes through it in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultyfriendofyours/pseuds/faultyfriendofyours
Summary: Paul picks the wrong girl to hit on at the bar and her boyfriend isn’t having it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Leave Him Bleeding

She had been eyeing him all night. Smiles and giggles and shy glances away. Paul couldn’t have missed it if he tried. The bird sat alone, a drink in her hand, for the entire performance. She was really something to behold. Perfect brunette hair, beautiful features, and long delicate fingers that taped and taped around the mug before her.

Paul thought it only right to chat her up.

After the final song, once the guitar was put away and the sweat was wiped from his brow, he found her in the same spot, a delicate smile on her lips as her eyes met Paul’s. There was something angelic and innocent about her face and light blue blouse and it endeared Paul instantly.

She bit down on her lip once he came closer. “Hi,” her voice was meek and excited.

“Did you fancy the performance, love?” Paul slid into the seat beside her.

“Of course! Your band is just fab.” She looked up through thick lashes. “Would have to say you’re the best, though.”

He raised a brow, a devilish smile pulled on. “Oh, would you?” He slid his hand across the table, taking up hers to stroke over her fingers with his thumb.

The nerves rattling from the girl were almost tangible as she opened her mouth to speak. No words came. She tried again. “You wouldn’t- Um, would you fancy showing me backstage?” She leaned over the table, finding her courage, and placed her free hand at Paul’s thigh.

He continued to study her finger for a moment longer before properly taking her hand and rising from his seat. “If that’s what you’d like.”

She nodded eagerly and Paul brought her up to her feet with a gentle lift of her hands. She drew near to him, leaning close to whisper something. He’d never know what she was about to say, for he was pulled back by the shoulder and twisted around to face a boy about his age. The lad’s face was red with anger.

“What ye doing with my bird?” He shoved Paul back into the table, a spark of pain dinging through his spine.

Paul’s hands went up, a hesitant smile trying desperately to not drop from his features. “Whoa, mate. Hadn’t realized she was taken.” The bloke looked infuriated, his wild eyes going between the girl and Paul. 

“My fault, really,” Paul added, to pull his attention from the girl. It worked a bit too well, the boy’s eyes boring holes into Paul’s soul. Sensing nothing good, Paul ducked low and to the side, slipping from the lad’s trap. “Can’t we just let this be, now?”

The lad whipped around, looking angrier. A few more boys around their age came to his side. “This scrawny git giving you trouble?”

“Thinks he can steal my girl.” A snarl of a grin stretched across the bloke’s face at his friend’s company.

Two hands clasped down on Paul’s shoulder. His stomach dropped. He was done for, surrounded on all sides. Where had his mates gone? Left for home already?

“Looks like we should leg it, Paulie.” Paul instantly relaxed at the sound of George’s voice. Without waiting for an answer, George dragged Paul backward and into a sprint through the crowded pub.

“Don’t let them get by,” one of the blokes bellowed out as George and Paul slipped past people in a hasty attempt to get away.

The boys pushed into a particularly thick crowd, losing sight of their pursuers. Thinking quickly, George yanked Paul down onto the floor and underneath an empty table. After a few moments, two sets of legs ran by.

“Think our best bet is backstage and over the brick in the alley.” George was all smiles, his sharp fangs glittered in the light that slipped in from above. He was having fun with this, Paul knew. “You’ll have to boost me so I can pull you up.”

“Alley? No way, son. Front door.” Paul went to point that way but saw the problem. One of the four blokes was standing guard. He seemed the most intimidating of his friends. “Ah, brighter than they look, aren’t they?”

George’s bushy brows raised with an excited grin. “Ready to book it?”

Though Paul felt Geo was having too much of a good time with this all, he also knew his mate was a competent escapist. Paul smiled back, shaking his head. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

With George’s hand tight around his wrist, the two were at a run before their backs were even straightened properly. With every ounce of grace possessed by erratic ferrets, the two squeezed and pushed between the thick cluster of bodies. Geo was laughing all the while, glancing back as they went to catch a look at Paul. The sheer confidence from the lad had Paul laughing too.

A clearing. Finally. The battle of the bodies was coming to a visible end. The space in front of the stage was clear of people as the next band finished setting up their instruments. The boys slipped into this clearing and darted for the large wooden door off to the side.

As they burst through the doors, Paul twisted back, pushing a drink cart in front of the door. Noticing this delay, Geo doubled back and grabbed Paul by the shoulder to usher him out and into the alley.

The sticky summer air was suddenly suffocating as the bassist huffed in deep breaths. He wanted to stop. Catch his breath. But the crash of metal and glass from inside put him back in gear.

Without further hesitation, he knelt down, placing his interlocked fingers over his knee. All the while he anxiously muttered, “Up, up, up!” Until George had placed a foot into his hands and Paul launched him just high enough to grip the top of the brick garden wall.

His mate scrambled the rest of the way up, quickly twisting on his stomach to reach a long arm out to Paul. With a short start, Paul was just able to grip Geo’s hand with both of his. The soles of his shoes scraped desperately against the brick as George hosted him to safety.

The effort, though valent, wasn’t quick enough.

The alley door slammed open and George began to curse, pulling with all his might. Just as Paul got a grip on the ledge, hands grabbed his legs and waist. They twisted him around and yanked him off the wall in one rough tug.

He fell to the concrete with a thud, his hands protecting the back of his head. As he got his senses about him, he looked up to see all four of the boys looming above him. His breath hitched in his throat as he scrambled to his feet.

“Leave, Geo.” He didn’t dare to look up to his mate. He could have been gone already, for all Paul know- for all he hoped. It was a stupid hope. He knew his best friend much better than that.

George landed beside Paul in a low crouch. “Are ye daft, son?”

“Very sweet, ye poofs.” The boyfriend that had started this all stepped forward. “You can get yer arses kicked together.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the bloke’s fist swung out, landing a hard blow to Paul’s jaw. The shock of the hit sent Paul back into the wall, his head knocking into the rough brick. Blood and pain plumed in his mouth, his lip slip wide open.

George went on the offensive, lunging at the bloke who hit Paul. He landed a hit in the gut, doubling the attacker over. Taking the perfect opportunity, he socked the git in the temple, really sending him reeling. With a low moan, the boy seemed barely able to keep his footing.

There was a moment where George was unsure if this bloke’s friends were going to help. But he didn’t dwell on the thought, quickly going in for another swing as Paul pulled himself off the wall.

It seemed the little group was becoming concerned as George thoroughly dominated the fight. A lad with bright red hair went to grab him from behind but Paul was already charging at him. Still dazed from the hit to the face, his blow landed short of the kidney shot he was aiming for. But it was apparently still painful enough to catch the red-haired bloke’s attention. He turned on Paul, gearing for a fight.

This time, Paul wasn’t going to be knocked back so easily. He danced around his opponent for a moment before they came together to exchange blows. The fiery-haired boy missed completely, catching Paul’s fist to his nose. It wasn’t enough to break it. He went in for another hit and slip the blokes lip at the corner.

A sharp cry from beyond the lad he was fighting caught his attention. He moved to see George being held back by two of the blokes, his arm being twisted at an awkward angle. The moment of shock was too long. The bloke had recovered and launched a fist directly into Paul’s stomach. His muscles tensed and felt as if they’d break as bile rose to his throat.

George watched helplessly as his mate stumbled from the blow, hunched over and vulnerable. “Stand up! Fight, Paul! Paul!” George desperately tugged and yanked against the arms holding him back as the bloodied boyfriend rose from where George had been pummeling him and charged at Paul. He caught Paul at the waist and nailed him into the ground.

The skin all along Paul’s back scrapped and shredded against the concrete. The breath was knocked out of him, his face drenched in blood and sweat. The bloke picked himself up in an awkward trot, kicking with all his might into Paul’s stomach. Paul curled up, clutching his stomach as blood erupted from his mouth with each cough of pain.

“Let me go!” George twisted and pulled to get free, sharp pain spiking in his shoulder. One of the bastards holding him twisted his arm back and up behind him. “Get off him! Just stop!”

Panic rose as the redhead and the boyfriend, picked the dazed Paul up by his shoulders. He was limp in their hands as they shoved him into the wall, one of them throwing another punch at his face for good measure. He was barely standing, his face covered in blood and already starting to swell.

“Won’t be going around my girl again, will you?”

The red-haired bloke laughed, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Yev done enough! Stop before you kill him!” George thought his shoulder might be dislocated at this point, the once searing pain fading into a distant ache. He had to get to Paul. He couldn’t let him get even more hurt.

“What an idea.” The bloody and disheveled bloke suddenly had a crazed look in his eyes. Even his mate seemed to take notice, loosening his grip on Paul’s shirt. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket, flicking the blade free. The metal gleaned in the dim light.

Paul still wasn’t moving- maybe not even registering, not even knowing. His head dropped to the side, resting on his shoulder and blood dripped from his lip only to splatter on the concrete. His pink button-up was now dirty and stained with sweat and blood.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t happen to his Paul. They were supposed to be famous. Conquer the world with their music. Together. They were supposed to be together through it all. Him and Paul and John. They were supposed to be certainties in life.

George jerked forward, bearly registering the loud _pop_ from his shoulder. “Waitwaitwait!”

The blade sliced into Paul’s skin, puncturing the soft flesh of his stomach. A low, gurgling moan escaped his lips as he fell forwards into the blade.

“No! Nonononono! Paul!” It was all frantic and incoherent words flying from George’s mouth between gut-wrenching sobs.

“Mate, stop!” The red-haired bloke grabbed his friend’s arm, yanking him away from Paul. His limp body fell face-first into the ground. “Lets- Let’s just _go_.”

The hands holding back Geo were suddenly gone, a new wave of pain mixing with the dread and fear. It all threatened to make him wretch. He swallowed it all back, running and tripping and sobbing as he went to Paul’s side.

He pulled the very still, very motionless, Paul into her lap, curling him up close to his chest. The thick and pungent smell of copper filled the air around them. Looking down, George could see the tear in Paul’s shirt, all around it soaked red.

George tore open the button up to see the blood, pulsing out from the gash. He placed his hand over it, pushing down.

A groan escaped Paul’s pale and bloodied lips.

“I’m so sorry… So sorry, Paulie. Oh, fucking hell…” No words seemed enough. Nothing he could say would fix anything. He screamed out for help. For anyone to _please just help, help my best friend. The only one who ever understood anything at all._

“Don’t just leave him bleeding here,” was the last thing Paul heard. It echoed and knocked around his skull as the pain he felt all over his body lessened. His limbs felt cold and numb. How was he so cold when it had been so hot just moments ago? The sensation was slowly spreading up, up, up- coming to close in on his heart.

Slow.

Slow.

Slow.

Thump thump…thump thump… thump… thump…

… _thump_ …

… _thump_ …

So quiet, now. Was it even there? Had his heart vanished from his chest and escaped into the night. Escaped somewhere far far away from the pain his body had suffered. Far far away from the cries and sobs. Sobs that had been excited laughter so shortly before. 

Laughter filled his head, then. Geo’s laugh. Geo’s fang-toothed smile.

Geo. George. George Harrison. His best friend.

John Lennon. His everything.

Would his heart leave to never see them again?

He didn’t want that.

He couldn’t have that.

With all he had left, he fought the encroaching numbness that was so desperate to stop his heart. Numbness was replaced by radiating pain. Pain that took over so suddenly and so harshly that he had to gasp in a deep breath of air. Even his lungs stung as he tried to use them as if he’d held his breath for far too long.

“Paul?”

His hand gripped another, so hard he thought he might break it, snap the bones right then and there. But pain was racketing through his body and he didn’t know how to let go after he was clinging on so tightly- to the hand, to his life.

“Hey, hey, hey, mate! Let up. You’ll break me hand!”

The pain began to pull away, replaced by something light and buzzing. Had he imagined all the pain?

“Drugs?” Paul murmured, squeezing the hand even harder.

“He’s awake?” A chair scraped against the floor, weight-bearing down beside him. Was he in a bed? “Hey, mate. Come on, then.”

Opening his tired eyes, Paul saw George and John’s faces hovering above him. John was smiling cooly while George was unable to keep back a giant grin. The fangy grin in his mind. The grin that pulled him back.

He let up on the hand he was holding but didn’t let go. “Finally. Thought you’d break me strummin’ hand,” John huffed with mock annoyance as Pual scanned the room full of white and blue walls and white sheets and his white bed. _A hospital_.

His head still groggy and confused, he looked up to John. “You hate hospitals.”

Not bothering to let John say a thing, George broke into a rushed apology. “I’m so sorry I didn’t help ye, Paulie. I was tryin’ so hard. Even dislocated me shoulder and all but-” George was in the process of trying to show Paul his arm in the white sling when Paul raised a weak hand, letting it drop almost immediately.

“Don’t be sorry, mate.” He took in a slow breath as John rubbed circles on his hand. His eyes were closing again. “You saved my life. That’s all that matters, innit?”


End file.
